I used to push a double stroller around Chicago. Now my sons are matching me stride for stride, navigating for me and telling me when I’ve made a wrong turn.

 I'm also motivated to graduate before my own son graduates from high school, giving me a six year window to get my degree in hand.

I always envisioned my preschooler attending my alma mater—until I took him to visit.

 I want many things for my children. I want them to be happy. I want them to enjoy life. I want them to take the risks that I may not have taken.

But sometimes when I watch her I want to slam on the brakes even now. “Take that corner slow, my little love… don't slip, there could be ice… are you signaling and giving yourself enough time to stop?”

Before she could gain control of it, the slimy fish slapped against her cheek.

I recently read something that said that if you have ever stopped to wonder whether you’re a good mom, you probably are.

I look up every five minutes, amazed I have this much time to myself. And I realize that I kind of, almost, a little tiny bit, miss the noise.

Maybe we all can’t do what we want to in life, but maybe some of us can. Maybe my son can.

As painful as it is to see your kids disappointed, it’s even more painful to see them held back by their own inhibitions.